|
By Misti Date: 2003 Jul 02 Comment on this Work [[2003.07.02.04.10.30788]] |
|
You know what bothers me deep down inside, all the way down to my intestines? There are a LOT of crap books out there. A lot of people don't have to work an honest job because of the crap books they have sold. Meanwhile, I'm giving my best poems away to Tom Robbins 'cause I simply ADORE Another Roadside Attraction and I am making seven bucks an hour peddling bras and panties to self-absorbed brats and bitches over the phone. Do I have a chip on my shoulder? No. I have dandruff on my shoulder. I know I have a bad attitude. I don't smile much at the people I see. I frown a lot. I keep to myself at work. If someone speaks to me, I speak back. On breaks I bury my nose in the Beats anthology my husband gave me as a gift or Miss America by Howard Stern. I don't think fart jokes are funny and there is nothing new or exciting about lesbians with silicone tits but I admire the hell outta Stern's blatant honesty and refusal to kiss celebrity ass. He's not politically correct or fake and I respect him for that. Why am I so bitter and angry? Because a lot of people have let me down. I have shone a bright light and people have not responded to it. I have wasted my words/poems/stories/scripts/insights on people who think Danielle Steele is a great novelist and Jewel is a great poet. I'm angry because Julia Roberts and Kate Hudson can do no wrong. I'm angry because I'm sick to goddamn death of seeing SUV driving Yuppies yapping on their cell phones and calling me and insulting my intelligence by asking me if they should order the red or black thong. Like I give a fuck. I'm sick of mediocrity! Banality! Self-absorption! Having to decide each week if I should spend my fifty bucks on quality shampoo and conditioner or a new bra. What I want to do is leave the country and sleep and eat and breathe and WRITE and make love and SWIM and CREATE. I don't CARE if I get paid as long as I get some kind of affirmation and peace. Because I don't have peace right now. I have turmoil. Headaches. Stress. Zits. Flab. I want to stab the dreamy outta my pulpy heart but I keep looking up at the stars and crying, even on forty milligrams of Celexa. I'm tired of taking crumbs and trying to make a loaf of bread. I'm tired of having no connections in my life. I don't mean connections in the Hollywood sense. I mean soul connections. Speaking to people who HEAR me and speak back. My husband and brother are the only human beings I speak to. I am very lonely and very sad. I want more of a life. I have a few ideas on how to get there from here. A few ideas but I am running low on energy. Off to pop a couple of aspirins. eBuLLieNce |